


sweet dreams are made of this, and who am i to disagree?

by bloodysparkles



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dreams and Nightmares, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, One Shot, POV Andrew Minyard, Sassy Neil Josten, but its not explicit dw, drake is referenced at beginning which is where the referenced rape comes from, i say magic au but it's set in the real world just with a twist, me?? writing an aftg fic that isn't based entirely around the internet?? couldn't be, sort of???, would have been more at one point but i lost interest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodysparkles/pseuds/bloodysparkles
Summary: Andrew Minyard is having a nightmare. This isn't particularly remarkable, until he opens his eyes in a shop that's run by a man with entrancing blue eyes, a smart mouth - and who's advertising dreams as his wares.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	sweet dreams are made of this, and who am i to disagree?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [when i cry, it never laughs.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12744903) by [Idnis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idnis/pseuds/Idnis). 



> last year when i actually wrote this, it was supposed to be a multichapter fic and i had a few ideas planned out for it. i don't have plans to continue this anymore, so i'm just posting the first "chapter" as a oneshot and leaving it as-is. 
> 
> i always get nervous whenever someone has an ambiguous/open ending tag, so i'm here to promise you it's not a sad fic. also, my apologies for the cliché title. i came up with it in two seconds.

Andrew had a nightmare.

This was not a remarkably new occurrence; Andrew had them a lot. More often than not, his nightmares outnumbered what few dreams he had, and Andrew had mostly gotten used to waking up in a cold sweat, hand reaching for a knife underneath his pillow.

Mostly.

Falling asleep was a chore now, like it had been for so long. Even with his eidetic memory, Andrew had trouble recalling when his sleep wasn’t disturbed by visions of monsters tying him down, hurting him, ripping the lungs out of his chest and taunting him, _you look so good like this, you’re such a good boy, say please and I’ll stop, say please, please, please-_

This nightmare was no different. Andrew was trapped, constricted, and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, because even in sleep he knew calling for help wouldn’t save him. Better to save the energy and humiliation. The air was dragged from his lungs, and he felt his chest collapsing, and the monster was above him again with its claws hooked underneath his ribs and grinning with its sharp sharp teeth and stealing his breath and

And then Andrew gasped as he was jerked sideways and was sent sprawling on the floor. There was no one there anymore, just him and the fear left over from the nightmare, in the quiet. Andrew sat in silence for a moment, breathing in and out, using the trick Bee taught him to hold off a panic attack, and felt his hands on the floor. He felt the smooth hardwood underneath his palms, traced his fingers along the grains and whorls of the wood until he came back to himself. Once he felt as solid as he could, he schooled his expression back into the blank look he always wore on his face and looked around.

Andrew was sitting on the floor of what seemed to be a shop of some sort. The walls were barely visible from the shelves stacked to the top with the store’s wares. The rickety old shelves stood in a haphazard way, scattered across the floor in a manner that suggested the builders of the store had been blind, deaf, and possibly mute. The one closest to Andrew looked thirty seconds away from depositing its contents on top of his head, so he decided to get up and explore.

As he picked his way carefully through the maze of shelves, Andrew shook himself out of the last remnants of hesitation and began to assess where in the world he was. He couldn’t have woken up here, as he had fallen asleep in his bed back in Columbia, but this place felt too... real to be a dream. Andrew examined the shelves to find objects that seemed to have only one similarity; they were all reflective. He passed silver plates, picture frames, mirrors, clocks, eyeglasses, and the occasional ring or necklace. As Andrew made his way down an aisle, he came face to face with a full-length mirror. Andrew saw his reflection in it, as clear as day, and behind him - where he had been sure he had been alone - there was a desk with a young man sitting behind it.

Andrew turned around to look the man in the eye. The man - who Andrew had to assume was some sort of proprietor to the store - just stared back at him. His eyes were blue, Andrew noticed, and then berated himself for being distracted by the eye color of someone who was clearly a figment of his imagination.

“Welcome. Are you looking for something?” the man greeted, looking bored.

“I don’t know. What are you selling?” Andrew shot back, despite the fact that he had just spent a while looking at everything the shop sold.

The man considered Andrew for a moment. Andrew briefly thought about doing something about this; perhaps threaten him or simply walk out of the shop. Now that he was thinking about it, Andrew hadn’t seen a door anywhere, and this was a bit concerning. Not that he was sure this was even real.

“What about.. a dream?” the man asked.

“Isn’t this one?”

“Not quite,” the man admitted, smiling just a little. Andrew was suddenly struck by the attractiveness of the man in front of him, but quickly shook this off. Maybe the guy had pretty eyes, and maybe his hair was a gorgeous shade of orange. That didn’t mean anything.

“What’s your name?” Andrew asked to deflect.

“Is that what you want to buy?” The man looked disbelieving.

“I was not aware that I had to buy that to find out.”

“Well, it doesn’t cost much. All you have to tell me is your name in exchange.”

“Andrew Minyard.”

“Neil Josten.”

“Well, Neil, what kind of dreams do you sell?” Andrew asked, because this was probably a dream anyways, so what could be the harm?

Neil propped his chin on his hand. “Any sort. We have daydreams, fantasies, memories, nightmares - although I suppose you might not want another nightmare tonight,” he said, eyeing Andrew up and down. Andrew glanced at himself again in one of the many mirrors around him and found that he was still sweaty and his hair was mussed. He self-consciously tried to flatten his hair down before he realized what he was doing and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Neil didn’t seem to have noticed this and Andrew realized he was waiting for a response of some kind. “It’s not like it matters. You cannot do anything to change what I dream about: you are a figment of my imagination.” Andrew might as well tell it like it is.

Neil didn’t visibly react to this, but Andrew could’ve sworn he looked vaguely offended. It was beyond him as to why, however, so he let it go. It wasn’t like dreams cared about customer service.

Neil was silent, his jaw clenched; presumably, he was actively restraining himself from speaking for some reason. Andrew sighed and played along. “I’ll take a good dream. Whatever you have.”

“Okay!” Neil schooled his expression and responded to Andrew with fake cheer. “If you don’t have any preferences… okay, pick up that necklace over there. The one with the blue pendant. Don’t touch anything else.” Andrew blinked at this non-sequitur, but shrugged and turned to the shelf on his right. Who was he to question the continuity of a dream. Andrew found the necklace between a locket and a pair of cracked eyeglasses, and brought it to the counter. He briefly compared the blue jewel to Neil’s eyes before shoving that thought away.

“How much?” Andrew asked, feeling in his pajama pockets as if he’d even have money in them.

“For that dream? The nightmare you were just having is fine, don’t worry about it.” Andrew stilled his hands again and looked at Neil blankly. This whole dream was weird. Whose subconscious decided to come up with a whole bartering system based on intangible experiences that wouldn’t even do anything once he “paid”? Let alone the fact that Andrew’s brain had decided to make the cashier stupidly hot for no reason he could discern. Bizarre.

Andrew decided not to respond (not that he could think of a response anyway) and snatched the necklace from the counter. He turned around as if to leave before remembering there wasn’t a door anywhere in the shop. Whatever; he’d wake up eventually.

On his way down one of the shop isles, Andrew spotted a small watch that looked vaguely familiar. He picked it up to take a closer look when Neil snapped at him from behind the counter.

“Hey! I said no touching the wares.” Andrew could hear the unsaid ‘asshole’ at the end of the sentence and turned to peer curiously at Neil. He was bracing himself over the counter and glaring. Andrew looked back at the watch, looked Neil in the eye, and dropped the watch on the floor. It made a faint crunching sound as the clock face shattered.

Later, Andrew wouldn’t be able to say why he’d done it - maybe it was something to do with the fact that it was a dream, or that he was the kind of customer who pissed off workers for the sake of it, or maybe (just maybe) it was because Andrew wanted to see what Neil’s pretty face would look like if he showed real emotion.

And was it real emotion. Neil sneered at Andrew and clenched his hands into fists. “I know you’re seemingly incapable of acting like a normal person in stores, and you’re every customer service job’s worst nightmare, but that doesn't mean you can act like a spoiled child every chance you get. Just because you don’t think I have feelings, that gives you the right to ignore the one thing I asked of you? Get over yourself.” Andrew stared, wondering where the hell his subconscious had picked the ideas for this dream up. He figured he might as well defend himself and opened his mouth.

“No. Don’t even try it,” Neil interrupted. “Do you ever stop to think about the impact you have on other people? Oh, that’s right, you don’t care. Because I’m just a ‘figment of your imagination.’” He glared. “Get out.”

***

Andrew woke with a start and lashed out at the first thing in sight. Nicky flailed backwards. “Sorry, sorry! Come on, we’ve got practice.” Andrew watched as Nicky hightailed it out of the dorm room, probably fearing being stabbed.

Andrew took a slow, grounding breath and shook off the remaining feelings of the dream he was woken in the middle of. It was blue eyes, red hair, and a smart mouth. Useless. He focused on the dream with the weird mirror shop instead. He remembered that the man - Neil - had said something about taking a nightmare as payment for a dream, but he had no memory of dreaming about anything unpleasant. He did, however, feel like he was missing something, but he couldn’t recall that either. Andrew frowned. Usually his eidetic memory helped him with these things, but there was nothing before he had found himself in the store dream.

Whatever. Andrew resolved to stop focusing on frivolous dreams and swung his legs over the side of his bed to get ready for (ugh) practice. He paused when he heard a clatter on the floor. He leaned down to examine it and picked up a chain from the ground. It was a necklace with a pendant on it - a pendant the same blue as the eyes he’d dreamed of.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed my weird, experimental idea i had a year and a half ago and left in my drive for so long i forgot what i wrote (again).
> 
> vaguely inspired by "when i cry, it never laughs" by Idnis. (thank you to sardonicAce for finding it for me)


End file.
